The Case of the Red Harridan
by Shiranshoku
Summary: Patrick Jane is called in to help with an investigation abroad, but his usual mental acuity seems to have left him. And who is the bewitching brunette he keeps running into?
1. Chapter 1

AN: This is my very first fanfic, so please, leave feedback! Also, I don't have anyone checking for errors as I'm sad and lonely, so please let me know if I missed something. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, just taking out the characters to have some fun. No copyright infringement intended. If Bruno Heller and JK Rowling had babies, they'd create genious television shows.

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She should have had that muffin she had found in her kitchen cabinets. You didn't often get lucky like that, but she had thrown it away without thinking twice.

It was probably stale, but then, it wasn't as if she usually noticed things like that at times like these. Nose buried in a book, hair carelessly twisted into a bun, using her wand to stir a cauldron bubbling in the kitchen on top of a jar of bluebell flames, muttering to herself. Neither she nor Ron were great cooks, but when she was on a case, the situation got dire.

It was his stomach, no doubt, that had prompted Ron to leave.

However, despite her resentful feeling towards Ron's paunch, it wasn't his fault that she was currently standing in a pub full of people with their hands in the air, all eyes on her. She wished she'd just eaten that muffin. That guy was _really_ making her feel uncomfortable.

"Ah. Stomach rumbling. Well, that's not exactly an admission of guilt, but we'll have to look into that. However ... " - the blonde man directed his attention back to the entire room at that - "... one of you has killed Mr. Urquart. I want that person to lower their right hand right now."

Nobody moved. A pale girl with glasses coughed.

"Okay. If you _didn't_ kill him, hop on one leg."

You could have heard a pin drop. Standing in the middle of the room in his three-piece suit, the man looked completely at ease. He exuded confidence, right from his curly hair to the tips of his tattered brown shoes. An enigmatic smile graced his lips, as if he was in on a joke and the pointe was escaping everyone else's attention. You'd have thought he was enjoying himself, if it weren't for the murder.

"That doesn't exactly narrow it down, either. I guess I'll have to go with suspect abdominal issues and see where it gets me. Folks, you're free to go, but don't leave town. Can I talk to you, Miss... ?" He approached her before she could leave the pub.

"Granger. And I'm afraid I don't have time, sir. Have a nice day." She really needed to get back to her cauldron. If Urquart was involved as well, this might turn out to be the biggest case she'd worked on so far.

"It's Jane. Patrick Jane. You went to a boarding school, didn't you? You consider most people older than you as authority figures but have difficulty taking men seriously. Which is why you immediately raised your hand when I asked, but smirked while doing so. Do you like calligraphy?"

"I don't see how... I really don't... Calligraphy?"

"Ink stains underneath your fingernails. Just like Urquart had. How long have you known him?"

"I didn't know him at all."

"You worked together, right?"

"No, we didn't."

"You didn't like him?"

"I didn't know him."

"You don't know him, you mean."

"I'm sorry, Mr ... ?"

"Jane."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Jane, but I really have to get going. Have a nice day."

"Right, of course. We'll be in touch, Miss Granger."

"I doubt it, Mr. Jane."

An otter with curly hair was waving a stick and whispering "obliviate" next to an Irish clown in his Memory Palace. For the first time ever, Patrick Jane had forgotten what he wanted to remember. _Vexing__**.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All mine, when I'm dreaming. During my waking hours, all characters belong to other people way more awesome than I. No copyright infringement intended.

AN: Sorry it took so long :-). I'll try to space my updates a bit more closely together. But, I have a baby and it was my birthday, so I hope you'll forgive me. All feedback is greatly appreciated!

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He was quite sure he'd seen the woman before. When and where, he couldn't tell. But the way she was scribbling notes gave him a distinct sense of déjà-vu. The pen looked awkward in her hand, and her tiny script lacked a certain flow. It was a bit like when you were walking with one foot on the sidewalk, step hobble step hobble step. Strange. Unfortunately, the words she had written down made no sense to him. Asphodel? Bezoars? Was she into Wicca or something? She surely didn't look the part.

Some people said his arrogance was his worst vice. That didn't bother him in the slightest, so he argued that his curiosity was worse. Like an itch he couldn't reach, once his curiosity was piqued he had to examine whatever the cause was. Since he wasn't just any feline, he'd gotten away with it so far but it was a bad trait nonetheless. Then again, he'd much rather worry about his virtues.

He sipped his tea. She knitted her brows and muttered something under her breath. He'd never seen anyone so engrossed in a children's book before.

When she had walked in, Jane had been reading the paper. A charming smile had convinced the librarian that the 'no drinks' rule didn't need to be enforced too sternly, so he'd been enjoying a cuppa. It was the third day he was keeping an eye on the woman.

The Urquart case was a tough one. Everyone at the NCA seemed ready to give up, consider it a cold one and have it over with. It was exceedingly frustrating, not finding any leads at all. And kind of like the woman's writing he'd been stepping and hobbling in all directions. He'd never felt so out of touch before. Any leads he had slipped through his fingers as if he were cupping water.

Vexing.

Urquart was a bit of a loner, according to his neighbours. Nice enough, always said 'good morning' and 'good evening', even talked about the weather when necessary. But strangely, nobody seemed to know what he did for a living or anything personal at all. If it wasn't for the fine from the library showing up, Jane never would have ended up here. He desperately hoped to find some clues. Something just felt _off_, and he had to find out what it was.

The woman wouldn't have caught his eye, but for two details. And the hair. Kind of hard to miss that, really.

One, the coin. Three days ago, she had dropped her bag, and quickly picked up its contents. Those were peculiar enough by themselves: parchment, a radish earring, a package of something he'd swear was labeled 'kneazle treats' and a small, green coin. It immediately caught his eyes: they had found a coin just like that in Urquart's possession.

None of the agents had been able to find out what it was for. They'd checked arcades, carwashes, even fairs - every possible thing you could use a token for. To Jane, it looked a bit like a security badge, but those were usually registered with your employer. Which so far, they hadn't found out.

Second, the scarf. The mystery lady wore a yellow and red striped scarf. It clashed horribly with her purple hat. The hat itself was quite a monstrosity - she had probably knitted it herself. He remembered seeing a similar scarf at Urquart's

Maybe he ought to check out some books on cryptography, he mused. There was obviously something connecting Mystery Lady to Urquart.

Suddenly, she gathered her things and left. He quickly followed her.

'Miss, miss! You forgot something!'

She looked back. He saw a flash of recognition in her eyes. He didn't know his show had been on air here... And wasn't she a bit too young to have watched it?

'Thanks for stopping me, sir! I get a bit scatterbrained sometimes.' She looked at him expectantly.

'Oh. Well, you didn't actually forget anything. I just wanted to talk to you.'

She scoffed. 'I'm flattered. But I'm not really interested, sorry.'

'Me neither. I mean, you're attractive off course but-' he pointed at his wedding band '- I'm married.' He beamed at her.

The Mystery Lady blushed prettily.

'Do you know a man named Peter Urquart?'. Immediately, the blush paled. Intruiging.

'No sir, never heard of him. And regardless, I'm not interested. Goodbye.'

'I understand, miss. Goodbye.'

Hah, she didn't expect that, he could tell. Her eyebrows went up ever so slightly, but she turned her heel and left the library.

Humming, Jane sipped his last bit of tea before he calmly set out to follow her. She looked furtive, constantly checking if anyone was paying attention to her.

And then, just like that, she was gone. He couldn't believe it. All he saw were some trashcans, a dule of doves and a small finch. It appeared to be looking at him.

'I suppose you didn't see Mystery Lady just now, did you? Petite, wears a satchel, impressive head of curls?' The bird cocked its head.

'Yeah, I didn't think so.'

Patrick Jane went back and finished his paper. For all the times he had told people he had placed a tracking device on them, he never really expected that he'd actually do it one day. He grinned. It made him _very_ curious.

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AN: The finch Jane saw is a European Goldfinch, in case you were wondering. Nice colours, don't you think? ;-)


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